


A Path of Light

by heyliarose



Category: Angels & Demons (2009)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-18 00:29:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14201002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyliarose/pseuds/heyliarose
Summary: When an assassin captures four cardinals and threatens to kill them one at a time, each hour, Sara must help symbolist Robert Langdon preventing a terrorist act, thereby also finally discovering the one thing her mother concealed for so many years. Follows the plot of the 2009 movie. Olivetti/OC





	1. Chapter 1

_A room full of darkness and smell that reminded of burning flesh tickled her nose. Disgusting. She shuddered as a cool breeze brushed her skin and her heart clenched, suddenly engulfed by fear. Every cell within her screamed at her to run, as fast as she could, but her body wouldn’t move. Something was holding her back. Looking down, she noticed that her clothes were torn but there were no chains that could possibly keep her from moving. Every passing second the fear grew stronger. Then a voice sounded in the distance. She couldn’t make out what exactly the voice was trying to say but it definitely belonged to a man. Tears started to fall down her cheeks and she felt like the fear and darkness would squash her at any second. “Dad!” someone shouted, as the person finally was close enough so that she could make out his silhouette. Startled she looked around, until she realised that it was indeed her voice that shouted for her father. Why? She never knew him; didn’t know what he looked like, didn’t know who or where he was. In the next second, someone abruptly grabbed her from behind, pulling her deeper and deeper into the darkness. The last thing she saw was a flame and a sculpture that resembled an angel in the far distance, before the darkness consumed her._

The young woman woke with a start. Her breathing still fast and unsteady as she sat up on the bed. Her hands moved over her tired face, brushing away loose ginger curls. A quick glance at the clock told her that she still had half an hour before she had to get up for work. Sighing, she stood and opened the curtains to let the morning sunlight into the huge bedroom. The ginger grabbed for her dressing gown and wrapped it tight around her body as she admired the beautiful view of the rising sun behind the huge basilica of St. Peter. It wasn’t the first time that this particular dream had disturbed her sleep. Darkness, flames, an angel and her father had always been the subjects. Then someone would grab her from behind, pulling her into darkness and sometimes she would even wake with a scream. She shuddered at these images, whose meanings she couldn’t possibly fathom. Again, her eyes fixed onto the basilica of St. Peter and somehow she felt herself relax. Its beauty didn’t give away any of the grief that was currently spreading through the streets. She had never been a deeply spiritual person, although her mother had been a Catholic through and through and had tried to confer this lifestyle to her only daughter. However, in this sense she took after her father, at least her mother had always told her fondly. Her father. Never before in her lifetime had she dreamed of her father, never before did the void he leave feel so huge. Not knowing who or where he was right now and if she ever got to meet him hadn’t really bothered her until now. Intuitively her other hand touched her engagement ring. Maybe her engagement had brought up these feelings that she had hidden deep within her for so long. After all… who would walk her up the aisle?

“Amore,” his husky voice sounded from the bed and she turned back to the handsome Italian still covered by the white duvet. A slight smile graced her pink lips and she walked back to the bed, sitting down beside him. “Morning,” she responded before she leaned in to kiss him. She couldn’t hide the sorrow swinging in her voice which he immediately caught onto. “Stai bene?” [Are you alright?]

She nodded slowly. “I’m fine. Just… the dream… again…”

He sighed and pulled her closer to him. She rested her head onto his chest and closed her eyes; savouring the few more minutes of peace.

 

About an hour later, the couple entered the headquarters of the _Corpo della Gendarmeria dello Stato della Città del Vaticano._ As soon as they set foot into the building, they were met by the one person that would make her morning even more worse: Richter – head of the Swiss Guard. She suppressed a sigh and greeted him as enthusiastically as she could. After he had informed them that he would very much like to speak with the man beside her, he shot her one last glace before they disappeared in her partners office. Ever since she started to work at the Vatican police a handful of men – Richter in particular – had a down on her and were just waiting for a good reason to get rid of her. Especially in the Vatican, the _Gendarmeria_ was a job dominated by men and although there was no law prohibiting women as police officers working in the world’s smallest state, it wasn’t always welcome. She watched the head of the Swiss Guard close the door behind him before she moved to her desk. The ginger was just about to open one of the unfinished files as someone put down a cup of coffee in front of her. “Buongiorno pulcino,” a male voice said and she chuckled. “How often have I told you to stop calling me that, Claudio?”

“Circa un migliaio di volte.” [About a millionth times.]

“Allora… smettila.” [Well… stop it.] She smiled slightly. Claudio Vincenzi was one of the few that didn’t mind her working at the police office. “Mai. Mi piace…” [Never. I like it.]

She liked him well enough she didn’t even mind him calling her nicknames.

“Dove hai lasciato Ernesto?” [Where did you leave Ernesto?]

With her chin she pointed in the direction of his office. “He’s in there with Richter.” Making sure to underline the commander’s last name in a particular way. She liked to sometimes fall back to English. It was her second mother tongue after all. Her mother – Laura Agnelli – was Italian by birth, moved to America to study and met her daughter’s father at the university. That was basically all the young woman knew about her father. To be honest, she didn’t even know if he knew that she existed. Laura moved back to Italy when her daughter was still a baby. Like her mother, the police officer went to America to study, but she could never imagine living her life there. So, after finishing her qualification she moved back to Italy. She then worked a few years at the normal Roman police force before she got the possibility to join the _Gendarmeria Vaticano_ – to make her mother proud. Little did she know that this decision would lead to finding the man she would marry in a year’s time. The love of her life, who was now walking back towards her. “Cosa voleva Richter?” [What did Richter want?] she immediately asked. “Sara… puoi farmi un favore?” [Can you do me a favour?]

She raised her eyebrows and looked at him quizzically. “Sicuro…” [Sure.] she then said. “Qualunque cosa. Lo sai.” [Anything. You know that.]

“Ho bisogno che tu voli a New York. Ho bisogno di un agente special in occasione della riunione delle Nazioni Unite.” [I need you to fly to New York. I need a special agent the UN meeting.]

_Wait what?_ “And you are sending me? There are people who are more capable for these bureaucratic meetings,” she said and pointed at Vincenzi who was still standing beside her. Ernesto sighed. “Era un’idea di Richter…” [It was Richter’s idea.]

“Da quando stai prendendo suggerimenti da questo ragazzo?” [Since when are you taking suggestions from this guy.] She didn’t wait for his answer, before she continued. “Bene! Bene! Andrò…” [Fine. Fine. I’ll go.] “Grazie mille,” [Thank you very much.] Ernesto said, smiling fondly at her.

“Mi sei debitore.” [You owe me.]


	2. Chapter 2

A lithe figure slashed like a knife through the water, doing laps. The swimmer was the only one in the pool, but still pushed like he’s got someone to beat. His strokes echoed off vacant bleachers in an oldish college natatorium. It had been his tenth round as he suddenly took notice of a clacking sound caused by heels on tiles. The around fifty year old man didn’t stop swimming but rather watched the young woman from the corner of his eyes as she made her way to the end of the pool. He stopped as he reached her, took off his goggles and supported himself on the edge of the pool. “A swim might help your jet lag,” he said as he surveyed her for a moment. Sara looked at him confused. “I beg your pardon?”

“You got bags under your eyes. It’s five in the morning and you’re from the Vatican.” Even more confused she raised her eyebrows. Tired wasn’t even beginning to describe how she felt at the moment. Two days had passed since she arrived in New York. Two days filled with endless boring discussions at the UN headquarters. On her third night Ernesto had called her with news that shocked her to the very core. “Crossed keys under the triregnum,” the man explained and pulled her out of her thoughts. Sara looked at her black briefcase and then turned her attention back to the man in front of her as he said: “It’s a papal symbol.”

As she looked back up, she noticed the irritated look on his face and instantly thought that he was judging her, but she was too tired to give in to that now. “Sara Agnelli. Corpo della Gendarmeria Vaticano.” Again the startled look in his eyes as she said her name, but she ignored it. “Vatican police? I was expecting another letter,” he stated. Now it was her turn to look startled. “My request for access to your archives. Shouldn’t you be in Rome? A kind of busy time for you guys, isn’t it?”

“In fact, I was in New York. Detailed to the UN. I received a phone call in the middle of the night: find Professor Robert Langdon. A matter of great urgency,” Sara explained and opened her briefcase. “They said to show you this.” She held the copy of the image Ernesto had sent her in front of his face. His eyes widened as they fixed onto the paper. Sara had guessed that as soon as he saw the symbols he would immediately be as keen as a mustard. She tried to suppress a grin as he climbed out of the pool and told her to wait outside while he changed. The indoor aquatic centre was located at campus so they weren’t far from his office. Sara was casually leaning against the wall, enjoying the warm rays of the Massachusetts sunshine and trying not to fall asleep, as Robert came back to her. With his hand he gestured for her to follow. “You’re American?” he wanted to know. “You speak without Italian accent.” Sara smiled slightly. “Half American heritage, yes. I also studied here in America, which would explain my accent, but my home is Italy.”

Robert nodded before she turned the subject back to the main point. “The Illuminati?” Sara wanted to know, handing him the paper once more. “They disappeared hundreds of years ago.”

“Did they? Look at that again. It’s an ambigram. It’s the same image forward and backward. Now, that’s common for a symbol like a yin and yang or a swastika… but that’s a word. That Illuminati ambigrammatic symbol has been considered a myth for 400 years. Supposedly, in the sixteenth century some artist created it as a tribute to Galileo’s love for symmetry. It was only gonna be revealed when the Illuminati had amassed enough power to resurface and carry out their final goal. I wrote a book about it… Which is why you’re here…?”

“ _The Art of the Illuminati b_ y Robert Langdon,” Sara stated. Yes, she had done a little research about him on the way here. “Part one. Haven’t been able to finish part two because I’m not allowed access to your archives.”

Sara sighed. Technically, she had nothing to do with the Swiss Guard and their rules, but if he were to ask, she would put in a word for him with Ernesto.

About two minutes later, they had arrived at his office. It was beautifully decorated and filled with old books. Robert took one out and quickly opened a page, on which various amigrams where printed. “It’s remarkable. Singular. Someone is trying to make you believe the Illuminati themselves have returned to Rome. An ancient brotherhood, enemies of the church, surfacing just after the death of a Pope? I’d pull you off vacation too.”

Sara lowered her head before she spoke. “It’s worse than just that. Four cardinals were kidnapped from inside the Vatican sometimes between three and five a.m. this morning. Shortly afterward that document was sent to the Office of the Swiss Guard along with the threat the cardinals will be publicly executed one per hour, beginning at 8pm tonight in Rome.”

Robert listened carefully and Sara noticed a flash of shock in his eyes before he spoke again: “Conclave…”

“Was to begin today. We’ve postponed its start for a few hours, a story of illness. There are no suspicions… yet…”

“What do you want from me?” Robert then wanted to know.

“These criminals who sent this ambigram meant it as a taunt, a provocation. But Captain Olivetti thinks if you can use it to learn their identity perhaps we can stop this abomination.”

“Why me?”

Sara sighed. “Your expertise… your erudition… Your recent involvements with certain Church… shall we say mysteries?”

“I wasn’t under the impression that episode had endeared me to the Vatican.”

The young woman smiled slightly. “Oh it didn’t. But it did make you… formidable. A Vatican jet is standing by 20 minutes from here. Will you come with me?”

Robert looked away, clearly deeply in thought and Sara continued. “Professor Langdon, you’ve spent your life searching for symbols like the one you now hold in your hand. How much longer are we going to pretend you’ve not already decided to come?” He didn’t even have to answer. The look in his eyes told her that she had hit the right spot. So, she took out her BlackBerry and informed the pilot that they were on their way.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Ci siamo quasi. Abbiamo appena attraversato il confine in Italia.” [We are almost there. We have just crossed the border to Italy.] Sara informed Ernesto on the phone. They had been in the air for a few hours now and were just crossing the border to Italy. She had tried to get some rest but it was pointless. Her body would just not allow her to relax. “If the Illuminati have returned and are in Rome, we will hunt them down and kill them,” she then said.

“The Illuminati did not become violent until the 17th century. Their name means the _enlightened ones_. They were physicists and mathematicians, astronomers. They were concerned with the Church’s inaccurate teaching and were dedicated to scientific truth. But the Vatican didn’t like that. So the Church began to, how did you say it? Oh, hunt them down and kill them. Drove them underground. Into a secret society.”

Sara nodded slightly, turning her attention on the city below them again. The sun rose behind the Colosseum, as the helicopter made its way towards Vatican City. The heliport and the car were the only options one had to leave Vatican City. There was no airport, just a train station, but that was used only for goods and not passenger transportation. Ernesto had sent a car to pick them up from the heliport and as her tired limbs hit the comfortable leather seats of the black Lancia Delta, she finally felt herself relax a bit. It took them another five minutes to arrive at the St. Damaso Courtyard, where Ernesto was already waiting for them. “Professor Langdon. Welcome to Vatican City,” he said and briefly shook hands with the American. “Ernesto Olivetti. Inspector general of the Vatican police force.”

“My pleasure,” Robert greeted. Ernesto gave Sara a warm smile, which she happily returned, before they started to head inside. “This way please,” Ernesto took Langdon by the arm and gestured down a narrow passageway. “We’ll meet in the headquarters of the Swiss Guard.”

“I thought you were Swiss Guard…?”

Ernesto shot him a surprised look and Sara had to supress a laugh. “No. La Gendarmeria. We are responsible for everything inside the Vatican walls with the exception of the security of His Holiness and the Apostolic Palace. _That_ is Swiss Guard. The Roman carabinieri are here as well in an advisory capacity.”

“So jurisdictionally this is…”

“A goddamn nightmare,” Ernesto responded.

They turned a corner and approached a squat stone building labelled _Offizia della Guarda Suiza._ Two Swiss guardsmen were standing outside the entrance to the building. They were somewhat comically dressed in puffy tunics vertically striped in brilliant blue and gold, with matching pantaloons and spats, topped by a black beret. Langdon couldn’t completely hide a smile, Ernesto noticed. The guards raised their eight-foot swords, allowing the three of them to enter the building. As they made their way through the corridor, Sara’s heels made those clacking sounds on the cobbles and in that very moment she wished she had worn flats. The interior of the Swiss Guard offices was ornated and filled with artwork, like every other Vatican building. As they walked, Langdon studied the row of statues of male nudes that lines both sides of the hallway, all wearing fig leaves. “Oh yes, Pope Pius IX’s great castration,” Robert said as they passed a few statues. “I beg your pardon?” Ernesto interposed.

“1856, Pope Pius IX left the male from would inspire lust. So he took a hammer and chisel and unmanned hundreds of these statues,” Robert explained. “The plaster fig leaves were added later,” Sara added, more to herself than anything, but both men looked at her in surprise. Sara shrugged.

“Are you anti-Catholic, Professor Langdon?” Ernesto then wanted to know.

“No. I’m anti-vandalism,” Robert explained as the inspector general nodded.

“I urge you to guard your tone here. The Swiss Guard is a calling, not a profession and it encourages a certain zealotry. Commander Richter, the head of the Guard is a deeply spiritual man and he was close to the late pope. Understood?”

“Look, I don’t study symbols because I consider them unimportant. Ceremony, traditions, it’s how we mark our lives. I just… hope I can help.”

“So do I. You were my idea,” Ernesto smiled slightly and then ushered them inside. The headquarters of the Swiss Guard was in a lushly adorned Renaissance library crammed with sophisticated communications and surveillance equipment. It’s crowded, Swiss Guard in suits and ties, uniformed Carbinieri, and Vatican police crammed around different stations, some working together, others arguing, mostly in Italian. “Wait here please,” Ernesto indicated the professor to sit down on one of the chairs, before he and Sara cross the room to a tall, fair-haired man around sixty. He didn’t look pleased at all. Not even as they informed them that Langdon was here. Richter wasn’t convinced that the professor would be able to help them in the matter, plus he didn’t approve of the man’s recent involvements with the church. “What a relief, the symbologist is here,” he greeted the man after he had shaken hands with Vittoria Vetra, a physicist at CERN. “This way please Miss Vetra,” without another look at Robert, Richter made his way into his office, followed by Vetra, Sara, Ernesto, and Robert.

“The canister was stolen from our lab around noon yesterday. The intruder killed my research partner, Silvano Bentivolgio and mutilated him in order to bypass security. We use retinal scanners. They cut out his eye,” Vetra explained as they came to a halt in front of a surveillance screen.

“Is that your stolen canister, Miss Vetra?” Richter asked.

“Where is that camera number 86?”

“It’s wireless. It too was stolen. It could be anywhere inside the Vatican,” Ernesto explained.

“That canister contains an extremely combustible substance. Called antimatter. We need to locate it immediately or evacuate Vatican City.”

“I’m quite familiar with incendiaries, Miss Vetra. I’ve never heard of antimatter being used as such…” Richter stated.

“Well, it’s never been generated in significant quantities before. It’s a way of studying the origin of the universe to try to isolate what some people call the God particle. But there are implications for energy research…”

Richter raised his eyebrows, not quite believing what he heard. “The God particle?”

“What we call it isn’t important,” Vittoria sighed. “It’s what gives all matter mass. The thing without which we could not exist.”

“You’re talking about t _he_ moment of creation,” Robert interposed and she nodded. “Yes. In a way I am. The antimatter is suspended there, in an airtight nanocomposite shell electromagnets in each end but if it were to fall out of suspension and come in contact with matter say, the bottom of the canister, the two opposing forces would annihilate one another violently.”

“And what might cause it to fall out of suspension?”

“The battery going dead. Which it will, just before midnight.”

“What kind of annihilation?” Sara wanted to know. “How violent?”

“A cataclysmic event. A blinding explosion equivalent to about five kilotons,” Vittoria urged in such a voice that it sent chills down Sara’s spine. “Vatican City will be consumed by light,” Robert suddenly spoke up behind her. “Those are the exact words the kidnapper used,” Richter stated.

 

A few moments later, they’re crowded around the communications console at Richter’s desk, where a dimly-lit video recording is playing back on a computer screen. The images on the recording are of four older men, some in their sixties, the other in their seventies, filmed in dim light behind bars in a dank, dungeon-like space. A lightly accented voice speaks from behind the camera. The dark voice sent chills down the ginger woman’s spine. Even though the preferiti clung to their cross necklaces, their fear and distress was still clearly visible in their eyes. Behind her, Ernesto’s hand found its way – unnoticed by the others – onto her lower back and she felt herself relax a little bit.

 

_We will destroy your four pillas. We will brand your preferiti and sacrifice them on the alters of science, then bring your church down upon you. Vatican City will be consumed by light. A shining star at the end of the Path of Illumination._

“It’s the ancient Illuminati threat,” Robert explained. “Destruction of Vatican City through light. Four pillars, there’s your kidnapped cardinals. You didn’t tell me they were the preferiti, the favourites to be named the next pope,” he said, shooting Sara a look. She sighed and rubbed her eyes, too tired for an argument. “Play it again,” Robert added before she could say anything.

 

_We will destroy your four pillars. We will brand your preferiti…_

“Wait, stop it. Stop it… Brand them. That’s another Illuminati legend. This one says that there is a set of five brands… each one an ambigram. The first four are the fundamental elements of science: Earth, air, fire, and water. The fifth, it’s a mystery… Maybe it’s this,” Robert suggested and handed Sara the piece of paper, on which the ambigram was printed on. “He said they’d be killed publicly,” Richter interposed. “Yes. Revenge for la purga…”

Richter shot him a confused look. “La purga?”

“Oh jeez. You guys don’t even read your own history, do you? 1688, the Church kidnapped four Illuminati scientists and branded each one of them on the chest with the symbol of the cross to purge them of their sins, and they executed them. Threw their bodies into the street as a warning to others to stop questioning Church rulings on scientific matters. They radicalized them. The purge created a darker, more violent Illuminati one bent on retribution. Look how they intended to finally get it: using antimatter, technology, to destroy the Church. Science obliterates religion. Is there any more?”

 

_… and sacrifice them on the altars of science, then bring your church down upon you. Vatican City will be consumed by light._

While listening this time, Langdon notices a darkened video monitor, inlaid at an angle on Richter’s desk. It faces away from the outer office, and instead of an on/off switch, there is an oddly shaped keyhole.

 

_A shining star at the end of the Path of Illumination._

Robert looks up sharply. “Path of Illumination… I need access to the Vatican archives.”

Richter shakes his head at his suggestion and looks at Olivetti harshly. “Professor, I don’t think this is the appropriate moment…,” Ernesto suggested.

“Your petition has been denied seven times,” Richter reminded.

“No, no. This has nothing to do with my work. The Path of Illumination is a hidden trail that leads to the Church of the Illumination the place where the Illuminati would meet in secret. If I can find the segno, the sign that marks the beginning of that path, the four churches along it may be where he intends to murder your cardinals. One every hour at 8, 9, 10, and 11. Then the device explodes at midnight. If we can figure out the first church and get there before he does, maybe we can stop it. But I can’t find the start of the path until I get into the archives.”

“Even if I wanted to help you, access to the archives is only by written decree by the curator and the Board of Vatican Librarians,” Richter explained.

“Or… by papal mandate.”

“Yes, but as you no doubt have heard, the Holy Father is dead.”

“What about il camerlengo?”

“The camerlengo is just a priest here, the former pope’s chamberlain.”

“Doesn’t the power of the Holy Seat rest in him during tempe sede vancante?”

Richter was taken aback for a second and shot him an askant look. Sara had to supress a laugh. Never had she seen the head of the Swiss Guard rendered speechless before and it was a sight she rather enjoyed. This guy is good. "Fellas…” Robert interposed. “You called me.”

Richter nodded slightly and looked a bit crestfallen.


	4. Chapter 4

“His Holiness once told me a pope was a man torn between the real world and the divine. It seems the real world is upon us tonight. I’m familiar with Illuminati lore and the legend of the brandings. La purga is a dark stain on this Church’s history. I’m not surprised this ghost has returned to haunt us,” the Camerlengo Patrick McKenna said and Langdon seemed a bit surprised. They were all assembled in the grand office, listening to the Camerlengo’s voice – a man in his mid-thirties with deep, dark eyes. The kind of priest who often inspires, before the years of dogma catch up with him. He sat behind the massive desk, and if he seemed young before, he seemed like a child now, overcome by the position he’s in. But when he spoke to Richter, he’s in command. “Commandante, have you begun to search for the explosive device?”

“Of course, but it could be anywhere. My primary concern at the moment is the safety of the cardinals.”

“The Sistine Chapel is a fortress. As long as the cardinals are in conclave, your security concerns are at a minimum. Devote as many of our resources…”

“Signori if you’re about to suggest a naked-eye search of the entire Vatican City. I will tell you we do not have the people…”

“Commander. Though I am not His Holiness, when you are addressing me you are addressing this office. Do you understand?” the Camerlengo interposed sharply. Again Richter looked quite dumbstruck. “Yes, Father,” he said a bit embarrassed. A small smile played across Ernesto’s lips and Sara slightly poked him in the side. He looked at her quizzically and an amused smile started to play on her lips as well. Oh she really could get used to this.

“You said the image on the screen was illuminated by artificial light. Might I suggest methodically cutting power to various sections of the city. When the image on the screen goes dark, you’ll have a specific idea of the camera’s location.”

Richter nodded – that indeed was a pretty good idea. The Camerlengo turned to Vittoria. “Dr. Vetra, besides yourself and your research partner, who else knew about this antimatter project?”

“No one but the research team. This project was strictly confidential. But Silvano kept detailed journals. If he told anyone else about what we were doing, he would have made a note.”

“Do you have these journals?”

“I can have them flown from Geneva in an hour.”

“Please.”

Vittoria nodded and instantly fetched her phone out of her pocket to inform her team. The Camerlengo then turned his attention to Robert. “Professor Langdon,” he said and indicated him to follow. The others watched as the two men disappeared behind another door. “Mr. Langdon you are correct that I may grant you access to the archives…”

“Thank you, Padre.”

“I said that you were correct that I may, not that I will. Christianity’s most sacred codices are in that archive. Given your recent entanglements with the Church there is a question I’d like to ask you first, here in the office of His Holiness.” While speaking, the Camerlengo slowly made his way towards the professor and came to a halt only a few metres before him. “Do you believe in God, sir?”

“Father, I simply believe that religion…”

“I did not ask if you believe what man says about God. I asked if _you_ believe in God.”

Robert paused, thinking deeply about his answer before he spoke. “I’m an academic. My mind tells me I will never understand God.”

“And your heart?”

“Tells me I’m not meant to. Faith is a gift that I have yet to receive.”

The Camerlengo smiles slightly. Pretty damn good answer. He then puts a hand on Langdon’s shoulder and leans in. “Be delicate with our treasures.”

 

“Mi piace lui.” [I like him] Sara said as she and Ernesto stood outside at the Belvedere Courtyard waiting for Robert to join them. “Non ho mai saputo che ti interessa la storia dell’arte” [I never knew that you are interested in art history.] Ernesto said and Sara shrugged. “Beh… era una mia piccola passione mentre crescevo. Mammà mi insegnava. Ci sono alcune cose che ancora non sai di me.” [It was a little passion of mine while growing up. Mom used to teach me. There are a few things you still don’t know about me.] Sara teased. “È così?” [Is that so?] Ernesto then gave her one of his textbook smiles that made her heart flutter. In this brief moment she forgot everything that had happened in the last few hours and the threat that endangered their lives. She took this opportunity to steal a small kiss from her partner. “Pensi che possa farlo?” [You think he can do it] She then wanted to know as the intimate moment had passed. “Lo spero davvero.” [I really hope so.]

Sara nodded as Robert came to join them. A moment later they were on their way to the library as Vittoria shouted after them. “Professor Langdon!” They turned down a narrow passageway as Vittoria caught up to them. “If this path really leads to the Church of Illumination that may be where they’ve hidden the antimatter,” she suggested and Robert seemed to light up immediately. “A shining star at the end of the path. I thought so too.”

Sara couldn’t help but smile slightly. They really didn’t spoil two marriages.

“Follow the path. We may find the canister.”

“Can you deactivate the device?” Sara interposed.

“I can change the batteries as long as we have more than five minutes. That would give us another 24 hours to get it safely back to CERN.”

Sara nodded and they headed along. The officers up front, followed by the two academics. “What are we looking for in the archives?” Vittoria wanted to know.

“A bound volume written by Galileo,” Robert answered.

“Galileo was Illuminati?”

“Yeah. And an obedient Catholic who didn’t think that Church and science were enemies but a different language telling the same story. He wanted like minds to find the Church of Illumination but he couldn’t exactly advertise its location so he created a coded path…”

As they walked up the stairs the light suddenly went off. “Richter has started to turn off the power of various grids. It’ll be back on in a minute,” Ernesto explained and they continued their way.

“Then some unknown Illuminati master sculpted four statues. Each one a tribute to one of the fundamental elements earth, air, fire, and water and placed the statues out in public in churches throughout Rome. Each statue held a clue pointing to the next,” Robert continued. “At the end of the path was the Church of Illumination. If you could find that you were one of them.”

“What makes you think he’s going to murder in the churches?” Sara wanted to know.

“The Illuminati called those four churches by the special name _L’altare della scienza.”_

“Sacrifice them on the altars of science, he said”, Vittoria pondered.

“Exactly.”

As they finally came to a halt at the entrance of the archives, Robert’s face lit up immediately. “Oh wow. Look at this.” Staring up at the impressive façade of the Vatican Archives, he took a deep breath and stepped forward to enter. Ernesto and Sara didn’t follow. “We go in alone?” Robert asked in surprise. “Vatican Police aren’t allowed access to the archives. Only Swiss Guard. Lt. Chartrand will meet you inside. We’ll be here when you’re done,” Ernesto explained. Langdon turned back to the archives with a look of deep contentment and stepped through the double doors, followed by Vittoria. As soon as they were gone, Sara took a seat at a nearby bench and stretched out her feet. “Come ti senti?”[How do you feel?] Ernesto wanted to know. “Stanco.” [Tired]

“Dovresti sdraiarti per un po’…” [You should lie down for a while.] Ernesto suggested but Sara shook her head. “Se vado a dormire ora, non mi sveglierò per un po’. Inoltre, mi farebbe sentire ancora peggio. Sto bene, ho solo bisogno di sedermi.” [If I go to sleep now, I won’t wake up for a while. Besides, it would make me feel even worse. I’m fine, I just need to sit down.]

 

The two modern glass doors of the elevator slit open, revealing what looked like a 23rd century library. It’s a massive underground space, like a darkened airplane hangar, with a dozen glass boxes evenly spaced throughout. They’re lit up from within, each containing row upon row of bookshelves, neatly filled with books, papers, and arcana. Lt. Chartrand, a young member of the Swiss Guard dressed in suit and earpiece, lead Robert and Vittoria toward the glass enclosures. “The chambers are hermetic vaults, oxygen is kept at lowest possible levels. It’s a partial vacuum inside. So extended stays are not recommended.” Chartrand stopped at one particular chamber and gestured to the sign on its door: _Il Processo Galileano._ “I’ll be just outside the door. Watching you, Mr. Langdon.”

The electronic revolving door spins and admits Langdon and Vittoria to the interior of the vault. “By the way, it’s normal to feel a little light-headed.”

“Yeah. Feels like I’m scuba diving with the wrong mixture.”

“Take a second. We have time,” Robert said as he checks his watch. 7:07 p.m. “Actually, I take that back.”

“Is that Mickey Mouse?” Vittoria asked, referring to Roberts watch. “Yeah. It’s a long story,” Robert answered and kept looking through the bookshelves. “It was confiscated from the Netherlands by the Vatican just after Galileo died. I’ve been petitioning to see it for about 10 years ever since I realised what was in it.”

“What makes you so sure the segno’s there?” Vittoria wanted to know.

“The number 503. I kept seeing it over and over again in Illuminati letters scribbled in the margins sometimes just signed 503. It’s a numeric clue. But to what? Five? Well, that’s a meaningful number to the Illuminati. There’s the pentagram, Pythagoras, dozens of other examples in science. But what about three? Didn’t make sense until I thought, what if it’s Roman numerals?”

“D-I-I-I?”

“D-three. Galileo’s third text. Dialogo. Discorso. Diagramma.” His eyes lit up as he pulled out a folio bin on one of the top shelves. After having put on white cotton gloves, Robert set the folio bin onto the desk in front of him. He gently opened the bin, revealing the slender volume of Galileo’s third text. “Just a few days with this and I could have actually finished my book and sold dozens of copies at the Harvard bookstore. Il Diagramma Veritatis.”

“Diagram of Truth… I know about Dialogo and Discorsi. Galileo laid out his theories about the Earth revolving around the sun.”

“Yeah, and said the Earth was not the centre of some universe with heaven above, hell below, as the Church had said it was.”

“So they forced him to recant in the second book. But what was this one?”

“This is how he got the word out. This is the truth, not what the Vatican forced him to write. Smuggled out of Rome, printed in Holland on sedge papyrus. That way any scientist caught with a copy could just throw it in water and Galileo’s heresy would dissolve, disappear. And between that and Vatican burnings it’s possible that this is the only copy that remains. And if I’m correct the segno is hidden on page number…”

“Five… Do you need help with Latin?” Vittoria offered and moved beside him as he nodded. “Movement of the planets, elliptical orbits, heliocentricity. Sorry, I don’t think there’s anything that could be interpreted as a…,” she said as she turned the page.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Robert interposed. “Do that again.”

Vittoria turned the page back and forth as Robert noticed something in the deep crevice of the margin as the page moved. He grabbed a magnifying glass to get a better look. “It’s a watermark. And there’s a line of text. It’s in English.”

“English? Why English?”

“English wasn’t used in the Vatican. It was too polluted. It was free-thinking. It was a language of radicals like Shakespeare and Chaucer. Here’s another one. _The path of light is laid, the sacred test…”_

“Will you write this down as I dictate?”

“Sorry, professor, no time.”

Before Langdon could do anything to stop her, Vittoria ripped the page from the text and shoved it into her pocket. Robert’s jaw dropped. “Yeah, yeah, what the hell. Yeah.”


	5. Chapter 5

Sara stood immediately as Robert and Vittoria came rushing back. She couldn’t quite interpret the look on Roberts face but figured that they had found what they were looking for. They quickly got into a black Lancia Delta and as soon as the doors closed, the tires squealed as Olivetti hit the gas. “Twenty minutes till eight. Where are we headed?” The Italian wanted to know.

“Hold on, hold on. I’ll tell you in a minute,” Robert answered and turned around to Vittoria, who sat in the back seat accompanied by Sara. “Let me see that page again.”

Vittoria carefully handed him a small paper and Sara instantly felt alarmed. “Where did you get that paper?” she wanted to know.

“We borrowed it,” Vittoria flatly stated.

“From Santi’s earthly tomb with demon’s hole…” Robert mused.

“Are you insane?” Ernesto said enraged, his attention on Robert and the street at the same time. The professor – however – ignored him and read on. “Cross Rome the mystic elements unfold.”

Just as Ernesto wanted to add something, a voice sounded from the radio. “Mi ascolto,” [I’m listening] he answered and listened what the person on the other line had to say.

“The path of light is laid, the sacred test. Let angels guide thee on thy lofty quest.”

“You removed a document from the Vatican Archives?!” Ernesto said in disbelieve after he had finished the conversation on the radio. “She did,” Robert stated matter-of-factly. Vittoria only sighed as all eyes turned on her. “From Santi’s earthly tomb. The first maker is at Santi’s tomb,” she said taking the conversation back to the matter at hand. “But who’s Santi?”

“Raphael,” Sara stated before Robert could and shot her quite an impressed look. “Yes.”

“Ill Rafaello, the sculptor?” Vittoria wanted to know.

“Yeah, Santi was his last name.”

“So the path starts at Raphael’s tomb”, Vittoria mused.

“Raphael’s buried at the Pantheon,” Ernesto interposed.

“Isn’t the Pantheon the church?”

“Oldest Catholic church in Rome.” Just as Sara had finished the sentence, the car fishtailed into a 180, and they took off in the opposite direction, headed for the Pantheon. The police car pulled to a stop a few minutes later. Richter and his team were already waiting. “I just pulled a dozen of our best men for this,” he said as they joined him. “You better be right.”

“This is one of the busiest spots. He’d never get away with it,” Chartrand interposed.

“The poem implies…” Robert tried to explain but Richter cut him off mid-sentence. “The poem? Unbelievable. I’m basing this operation on an American’s interpretation of a 400-year-old-poem?”

Sara stepped up beside Robert and tried hard to hold back the urge to hit Richter square across the face. He – of all people – should be happy for any help they could get in finding the preferiti. “The information we have clearly refers to Raphael’s tomb,” she said and shot Richter a glare. “And Raphael’s tomb is inside that building.”

“Because the Vatican destroyed all of the pagan statues in the 1800s, if this is the marker, whatever clues were here to lead us are gone now. The path is dead. So this is it, your only chance,” Robert added. Richter looked at him for a long moment, before he turns abruptly to a uniformed officer. “Separate approaches. No closer than two blocks and no uniform. Three minutes. And I need a set of eyes inside.”

“Excuse me? Two weightlifters in matching black suits and earpieces? They’re hardly disguised,” Vittoria interposed as she saw two men walk towards the little group. “Well, it’s what I have.”

“Fine. I’ll go in.”

Richter turned. “I’m not sending a wom…” He stopped mid-sentence as he noticed her arched eyebrow. “… a civilian into this situation. You have no communication. You can’t carry a walkie-talkie. It’s too conspicuous.”

“Tourists have cell phones don’t they?”

Robert stepped up to Vittoria and Richter. “No, no, you can’t send her in there alone,” he said.

Richter seemed to think about it for a second as Robert glanced at Vittoria, his protective instincts aroused. “All right, I won’t.”

After Vittoria and Robert were instructed by Richter, they headed for the Pantheon – hand in hand. Sara, Ernesto, and the others stayed behind. The young woman didn’t really feel all too great about this and started to play with her hands, something she always did when she was nervous. “Andrà tutto bene,” [It’s going to be ok.} Ernesto whispered in hopes to calm her. “Spero tu abbia ragione.” [I hope you are right.]

 

It felt like an eternity before Robert and Vittoria returned but what they then had to say did not exactly send a wave of relief through the group. “Wrong? What do you mean wrong?” Richter repeated.

“It’s the Chigi Chapel in the church of the Santa Maria del Popolo. It was once called the Capela della Terra, the chapel of the earth. Earth, the first element. That’s it,” Robert explained.

“You were certain about the Pantheon.”

“We have four minutes!”

Richter – however – turned to his men. “Wir sind am falschen Platz! Zruck in den Vatikan!“ [We are at the wrong place. Back to the Vatican.] Richter ordered in German and Chartrand immediately sprang into action. “Back to the Vatican? You can’t!” Vittoria said frustrated at the man’s stubbornness.

“Commandante, if you care at all about your church, you’ll listen,” Robert tried.

“My church? My church comforts the sick and dying. My church feeds the hungry. What does your church do, Mr. Langdon?” Robert paused, thinking carefully of an answer. “That’s right, you don’t have one.” Richter then turned and walked away, glaring at Olivetti. “Take him if you want. I’m done with him.” The young woman couldn’t quite believe what was happening. She had never really taken a liking to the commander of the Swiss Guard but this was harsh even for his standards. “Well, let’s go then,” she said clapping her hands. In no way would she give up that easily. The Swiss Guard was responsible for the security of the Conclave to which the kidnapped cardinals belonged as well, why Richter suddenly decided to ignore that was inexplicable.

 

Two minutes later, Olivetti’s car screeched to a halt in the Piazza del Popolo at sunset. Langdon, Vittoria, Ernesto, and Sara climbed out and started to scan the square. “All right, this makes sense. Right in front of the church. An obelisk, a lofty pyramid. Egyptian symbol adopted by the Illuminati. If he’s going to kill him, he’ll do it here.”

Suddenly the clock struck. “Eight o’clock”, Ernesto announced. “Di qua!” [This way.] Langdon took off running towards the 11th century church at the southwest corner of the plaza, covered in scaffolding. He hopped over the sawhorse blocking the entrance and tried the door. Locked. Ernesto and Sara raced alongside the church. They reached a door with a large, heavy ring, and Ernesto pulled it toward him but the door wouldn’t budge. He pushed and threw his shoulder into it. Locked. They just wanted to run further as Vittoria and Robert joined up. “No, no, it’s an annulus!” Robert said and gave the large ring an almighty twist and the heavy door clunk open. The interior of the church was an obstacle course of torn-up flooring, brick pallets, and mounds of dirt. Silt drifted in the dying sunlight that shone through the broken windows and walls. Nothing moved. Dead silence. The four of them walk slowly to the middle of the floor, at one end of the chapel. There were eight recesses, four on either side of a central aisle, all covered with large sheets of plastic, to protect them during construction. “The chapel is in one of those apses,” Robert whispered.

The plastic rustled ominously. Anything could be behind any one of them. Ernesto and Sara pulled their guns from their waistbands and held them in front of them, which made Robert uncomfortable. They moved forward. A few heartbeats later, they found the right chapel. “Pyramids in a Catholic church. This is it. This is the Chigi Chapel,” Robert announced slightly relieved.

“Non mi piace questo posto…” [I don’t like this place.] Sara uttered to herself.

Robert let his gaze wander through the room before they halted on the floor. “The demon’s hole. But it’s askew,” he then said and Ernesto came to his aid. Together they lifted the cover to reveal a ladder leading to a crypt underneath the chapel. “Hand me your flashlight,” Robert said to Sara and she gave it to him. They noticed a shape, around thirty feet down and hard to make out. “Can you tell what it is?” Ernesto wanted to know.

“Not from up here…”

“State qui,” [You stay here.] Ernesto instructed, as the men made their way down. As they reached the bottom something crunched under their feet. They were standing on a pile of human skulls.

“You okay?” Sara asked from upstairs.

“More or less,” Robert answered and they take more steps closer to the figure. Vittoria gasped as the flashlight revealed a body down in the crypt. It was the first preferiti. He had been buried in the earthen floor of the crypt up to his waist his jaw broken, his mouth crammed full of dirt. But that wasn’t the worst of it. A blackened word, branded into the red flesh of the Cardinal’s chest – an ambigram saying _earth._ You see many things when you work for the police force but t _his_ this was beyond anything Sara had ever imagined. Back upstairs, Ernesto informed Richter and the Swiss Guard was at the crime scene in less than ten minutes. “Get the body out of there and search the rest of the building,” Richter instructed. “Chartrand!”

The young guard came running immediately. “Sir?”

“Outside a perimeter. Secure but invisible. No lights, no guns, nobody knows. Understand?”

“Yes sir!” Chartrand nodded and sprang into action. Sara watched as Robert gestured with his hands, clearly explaining something to Vittoria before he took off outside. Everyone else followed. “Southwest,” Robert said as they joined. “It was pointing southwest.”

Sara guessed that he meant the angels Vittoria and him were standing in front of before. “Earth, air, fire, water… We’re looking for a Bernini sculpture having something to do with air. The second church is somewhere southwest of here.”

“You’re sure this time?” Richter asked mockingly but Robert chose to ignore him. “I need a map showing all the churches of Rome,” he assigned before he climbed up a construction site to have a better look around. Sara took this moment to turn to Richter. “What the heck is your problem?”

Ernesto’s hand instantly found its way onto her shoulder. “Sara.”

“No,” she said as she brushed him off. “If you’re only half as clever as you claim to be, by all means go and show us the next marker. If not, just be quiet. He is doing everything he can to help an organisation that means everything to millions of people and he does so because he _wants_ to. He’s helping _your_ church and if it means as much to you as you claim then _do something!_ ”

Richter flashed an enraged look at her. “Are you done?”

Sara inhaled sharply and straightened herself. “Yes.”

“Good because apparently there are more important things at hand,” he stated and made his way back to the car. Sara rolled her eyes. “Bastardo,” she muttered under her breath.

“Era davvero necessario?” [Was that really necessary?] Ernesto asked.

“Eh dai. Sai che doveva essere detto.” [Oh c’mon. You know it had to be said.]

 

Two minutes before 9 p.m. they arrived at St. Peter’s Square. “Check the crowd. It’s almost 9. He’s gotta be here already,” Robert ordered and while Richter, Ernesto and Sara searched through the crowd for a possible assassin, Robert and Vittoria kept watch for a statue about air. Sharpshooters scurried among the statuary, setting themselves up. The square was full of people and it was hard to push through the crowd. Every person could be the suspect. How were they supposed to find the right person in the right time? Sara had lost sight of Richter and Ernesto as she pushed further into the crowd. Suddenly she crushed into someone. “Mi scusi!” she exclaimed in shock as she locked eyes with a middle-aged man. There was something in his gaze that sent shivers down her spine, but before she could dwell on, a piercing scream sounded through the square. Shouts for help followed and before she knew it, the man she bumped into was gone and she made her way to the source of the scream. Robert and Vittoria were the first ones to reach the injured priest. “He’s still alive,” Vittoria said as she knelt beside him and started with the mouth-to-mouth respiration. As she did so, blood splashed all over the place, part of it onto Robert. “His chest. They punctured his lungs.”

As the ambulance finally arrived, it was already too late. Another preferiti dead. For what? To prove a point? Robert pulled a shocked Vittoria to the side as she clung to him for support.


	6. Chapter 6

Vittoria sat on a chair, a cup of tea in her hands and a jacket around her shoulders to keep her warm. The death of the latest preferiti had shocked her more than she had thought. Sara stood at the huge window in the room, looking out at St. Peter’s Square where carabinieri were busy clearing the piazza. She was half listening to the Camerlengo reading out the letter Richter had found at the corpse. “… _from within your walls to squeeze life from the Bishop._ He’s actually claiming responsibility for the death of His Holiness. That’s ridiculous. He died of a stroke.”

“It implies the Illuminati murdered him with his own medication,” Ernesto said, pointing at the significant line in the letter. “Down here. _With man’s solution we stilled his heart. With his own needle did we pierce his unholy veil._ Did the Holy Father take any kind of medication by injection?”

“Tinzaparin,” the Patrick answered. “He had thrombophlebitis. He took an injection every day. But no one knew that.”

“Someone knew.”

“Well, he had health concerns and seizures as well. But he took steps to make sure he was watched, for safety. He didn’t want it made public, so we have no reason to discuss it,” Richter interposed.

“Tinzaparin is lethal in the wrong dosage. An overdose could cause massive internal bleeding and brain haemorrhages. It might look like a stroke at first, but in a few days his body would show signs. This could easily be examined,” Vittoria explained.

“Miss Vetra, in case you ‘re not aware of it papal autopsy is prohibited by Vatican law. We’re not going to defile His Holiness’s body just because his enemies claim…”

“But why would they send this letter now?” Ernesto interrupted Richter midsentence.

“Well, to cause panic,” Patrick suggested. “ _The sun will blind at midnight and neither police nor professors can stop it.”_

“He knows I’m here.”

“Obviously they were hoping this letter would become public. We might be wise to pre-empt their next attempt by making an announcement of our own to refute this absurd claim.”

“That’s out of the question,” Father Simeon interrupted. “Cardinal Strauss has insisted this entire matter be kept internal.”

“He shouldn’t even be aware of it. He’s locked in conclave,” Patrick returned.

“His final instructions before sealing the doors were very clear.”

“Cardinal Strauss does not dictate Vatican protocols.”

“As you say, yet, technically now that conclave has begun it’s his privilege and duty to control public announcements. I’ve drafted a release about the incident in the piazza but any other statements are specifically prohibited. For that Cardinal has asked me to remind you we have a chimney.”

Sara caught Richter smiling at Father Simeons response. What was it with the ego fights? She simply rolled her eyes and kept looking out of the window.

“Commander Richter, the search for the device?” Patrick then wanted to know.

“Well, we’ve turned the power on and off about 20 percent of Vatican City. Nothing on the video yet.”

“We’re running out of options. How long would you need to evacuate everyone?”

“If I pull all my men from the search for the bomb, 30 minutes,” with that Richter left the room.

“Mr. Langdon. You have been right so far about the path. It’s now 9:15. How quickly can you find the next church?” Patrick turned his attention to Robert who had been studying a map of Rome in the meantime. “The lines on the carving pointed east, away from Vatican City. But there were five of them, so there’s room for error. About 20 churches intersect those lines. None of them have names that invoke fire. So a Bernini sculpture must be inside one of them that does. We’ll need to get into the archives to find it.”

“Would you escort Mr. Langdon?” Patrick asked of Ernesto, who nodded. “Yes, Father.” Before they left someone handed Vittoria a briefcase, which held the journals from Geneva inside. “Silvano’s journals. The killer’s name could be in here. May I stay?”

“Please. Fine, of course,” Patrick nodded.

With his eyes Robert checked if she would be okay and Vittoria reassured him by nodding her head. The others instantly left for the archives again.

“Voglio che tu vada con lui questa volta.” [I want you to go with him this time.] Ernesto said on the way. “Ma non ci è permesso…” [But we are not allowed…]

“Non mi interessa.” [I don’t care.]

Sara nodded. “Ok. Ti prendi la colpa…” [Ok. You take the blame.]

“Come sempre.” [As always.] He smiled and she winked at him.

 

“What are we looking for now?” Sara wanted to know once they were downstairs.

“Church assets,” Robert answered.

“Sorry what?”

“Artwork. It’s valuable. Corporations tend to keep track of their holdings.”

They entered a room labelled _Banco Vaticano._ As Sara entered behind him, Robert briefly turned around to shoot her a questioning look. “I thought you weren’t allowed in here.”

“Ernesto said to not leave your side,” she simply stated.

Robert rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t me, it was her.”

Feeling a bit dizzy, Sara sat down on the small table opposite Robert who was now scanning through a book. She surveyed his concentrated look and as he finally looked up to turn the book around to her she looked into the same kind eyes that she saw in the mirror everyday. Taken aback she only noticed that he was talking to her when he had almost finished his sentence. “What does this say in Italian right here next to the _Ecstasy of Saint Teresa?”_ Robert pointed at a line of text. “Right there.”

Sara sighed. “Ehm… moved at suggestion of the artist.”

“Moved? To another church. At the suggestion of Bernini?” Robert turned the book to look at it again. “I don’t know,” she confessed.

“Here translate this for me… I’m looking for a reference to fire,” he pleaded and shoved the book towards her again.

“Fires… Seraphim, meaning the fiery one… His great, golden spear, a point of fire. Then woman left completely afire,” she cited.

“ _Ecstasy of Saint Teresa._ Saint Teresa on fire. So this sculpture was moved to this church?”

Before Sara could answer the lights in the archives went off and the alarm sounded, indicating that the oxygen feed had stopped. “Why did they shut down the system? They know we’re down here,” Robert said in shock. “If there’s no power, there’s no oxygen,” Sara added and stood.

“Can we get out?”

“The door is electronic,” Sara said while she tried to press the button that would normally open the door. “Well, that’s disappointing,” Robert mused.

“Command do you read me? Power is off. Oxygen is very low. Come in. Can you read me?” Sara tried to reach someone through the intercom but nobody responded. She then tried the walkie-talkie but they were beyond reach. “Can you get anything?” Robert wanted to know and Sara shook her head. “No. The walls are lead-lined. There’s no signal.”

Robert then checked his watch, they didn’t have much time left. Sara’s eyes widened as she caught a glimpse at the design of the watch. Mickey Mouse. “Where…” she began but couldn’t finish her train of thought as her already tired body slowly started to get heavier and her vision blurred. Robert went on to think of a way to break through the acrylic glass walls. Sara let herself slide down against a bookshelf and watched as Robert climbed onto a different one, shaking it loose of its mounting and violently upsetting it against the glass. However, nothing happened. The last thing she remembered was Robert reaching for her gun before she lost consciousness.

The professor shot a few rounds at the glass, leaving it as much damaged so that he could break through it with only little pressure against the upset bookshelf. Only a moment later did the power go on again. Robert sighed as he sat up. Still out of breath, Robert staggered over to the young woman on the floor. Sara was slowly coming back to life as Robert shook her shoulders slightly. Still groggy he helped her on her feet. “What happened?” she asked and then remembered. “What time is it?” she asked alarmed. “Fifteen to ten. We gotta hurry.”

 

With a hand around her hip, Robert supported the young woman as they made their way outside as fast as they could. Just as they left the door, Ernesto pulled up, jumping out of the car and running towards the two. “What happened?” he wanted to know as he took over the support of Sara from Robert. “I’m fine,” she stated as she leaned against his strong arms. Ernesto shot Robert a look, concern written all over his face. The professor briefly explained what had happened in the archives before he continued to the subject at hand. “Santa Maria della Vittoria. Do you know it?”

“Yes I do,” Ernesto answered.

“It’s the next church,” Robert explained and the three of them got into the car. Sara took the seat beside Ernesto, as Robert climbed in at the back. With blue lights switched on and at full throttle, Ernesto drove the car to the next destination. Still full of concern he took Sara’s hand, which didn’t stay unnoticed by Robert. Sara closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cool window breathing in steadily. “I think someone just tried to kill me,” Robert then announced.

“Professor I promise you we had no idea…” Ernesto countered. And he would never risk _her_ life.

“He knows I’m here.”

“Yes.”

“You heard me ask permission. You gave me an escort.”

“We had no idea that portions of our white zones were cross-wired with that building. Commander Richter was extending the search. If he had known the archives were on that grid, he never would have killed the power,” the Italian explained.

“Or there is the other possibility. Is it conceivable the Illuminati have infiltrated the Swiss Guard?” Robert suggested. Ernesto looked at the professor in the mirror and hesitated before he said: “Perhaps.” Sara opened her eyes in shock and looked at her partner. No matter how much she hated Richter, she didn’t think he had anything to do with it. ‘You don’t really believe that do you?’ Her eyes asked and he shrugged.

“I wanna speak to the camerlengo,” Robert pleaded.

“The camerlengo is unavailable. He’s found evidence that the Holy Father was indeed murdered. He is seeking guidance.”

“From whom?”

“From God,” Ernesto stated bluntly.

Although she couldn’t see, she could clearly feel Robert rolling his eyes.

“Make an effort. Please,” Ernesto pleaded.

“Yeah, yeah,” Robert sighed.

Smiling slightly to herself, Sara leaned back in the leather seat and closed her eyes once more.


	7. Chapter 7

Two minutes before ten they reached Santa Maria della Vittoria. “Andiamo! Andiamo! Vai vai vai!” various police officers hurried out of their cars to the church. Bursting through the doors, weapons drawn, everyone suddenly came to a halt, the shock evident on everyone’s face as Ernesto exclaimed “Oh santo Dio.” There, the third preferiti screamed in agony as the flames of the pyre gnawed away at his skin. “Triatelo giù!” Olivetti shouted to them in Italian, looking for a way to cut down the agonized cardinal. Sara stood in the middle of the aisle, the horror spreading through every fibre of her body. Trying not to gag as the horrible smell of burning flesh entered her nostrils, the images of her recent nightmares flashed like a movie in front of her eyes. Sara shook her head in an effort to get rid of these images and tried to concentrate on the here and now as best as she could. She watched how Robert shouted some orders to the carabinieri as a shadowy figure in the back of the church caught her attention. She instantly drew her weapon and slowly made her way to the back as Vincenzi went to the ground. Just as she wanted to check for his pulse various shots sounded and her body tensed. With a drawn weapon and highly focussed she looked around the room. Her mind didn’t want to think about what or who these bullets might have hit and killed. She didn’t even notice that the preferiti’s screams had stopped, all she could think about was the angel statue that stared right back at her. A heartbeat later someone grabbed her from behind and pulled her into the darkness. The last thing she saw was Ernesto on the ground and a heart-breaking scream escaped her lips.

 

A metallic tapping sound echoed through the smouldering church, as firefighters scurried to help Robert out of his hiding place. “Signore, are you okay?” one of them wanted to know and Robert only managed to nod. They helped him sit down on a bench and one of the paramedics handed him an oxygen mask. Robert inhaled slowly and his lungs welcomed the clean oxygen. His gaze wandered around and then halted on a statue of Saint Teresa. “Saint Teresa on fire,” Robert mumbled to himself. Just as he wanted to get up, a deep voice held him back. “Oh good, I thought we had lost you,” Ernesto said, trying his best to form a small smile but failed. Robert nodded slightly to the Italian as if saying he was glad to see him as well. Only then did he notice the absence of the ginger haired police officer. “Where is…,” he began, but Ernesto did not let him finish his question. “The kidnapper took her as well…,” he said, concern written all over his face. Robert looked at the man in shock. All the more reason to hurry. The professor stood and pointed at the statue he was looking at before. “What direction is that?” he asked. “West… I think.” Ernesto answered, surveying the angel pointing in the said direction. “Cross Rome… the mystic elements unfold…,” Robert murmured and asked for a map as an idea formed in his mind. Literally across Rome? With a pen, Robert marked the churches they had been to before and then searched for the next intersecting on the line. “A church with water… wait, wait, wait, the poem _must_ mean it literally, cross Rome… Piazza Navona. Earth, Air, Fire, Water. Cross Rome. Bernini’s _Four Rivers.”_

“Professor, Commander Richter has ordered me to escort you to the Vatican immediately,” a carabiniere then interjected. “Non adesso,” [Not now.] Ernesto urged as they made their way back to the car. The carabiniere – however – didn’t give up that easily. “Professor Langdon, the Vatican insists that I have to take you back.”

Robert stopped in his tracks and furiously turned around to the officer. “The Vatican is about to see its fourth cardinal murdered tonight. Now, look. You can do as they say and force me back to the Vatican where we can all mourn his death together. Or you can show how real cops act and let me go to the Piazza Navona where we still might be able to stop it.” Taken aback, the police officer nodded slightly and let Robert and Ernesto pass. As soon as the doors were closed, Ernesto hit the gas, they didn’t have much time. “So you and…” Robert asked hesitantly.

Ernesto turned to look at him and nodded. “Yes.” Before concentrating on the road again. Robert nodded as he looked out of the window. He wasn’t nosey or anything, he just… okay yes he was nosey. “Let angels guide thee… There it is… There it is,” Robert then said as they came to a halt at the piazza, accompanied by two police cars. “Professor, I know this fountain. There is no angel on it.”

“The dove. The Angel of Peace. And it’s looking in what direction?”

“East, I think,” one of the officers answered as a van came to a halt on the other side of the piazza. As this was a pedestrian precinct, the carabinieri were immediately on alert. Ernesto stayed behind with Robert as this did not fall within the remit of Vatican police. They watch as the carabinieri slowly encircled the van. Nothing happened for a few seconds as the officers are behind the van Robert and Ernesto did not see them fall dead to the ground. In the next moment, the side door of the van slides open, revealing the figure of the fourth cardinal, wrapped in chains and with manacled hands and feet. One of the links bisected his mouth like a horse’s bit, stifling his cries for help. Then, the kidnapper shoved the bound figure roughly out of the van. The cardinal rolled, falling into the fountain with an enormous splash. His weighted body sinks immediately to the bottom. As the van tears out of the piazza, Robert and Ernesto spring into action. With joined forces the two managed to pull the cardinal upright so that his head was out of the water and he could get some air but it was still too heavy for them to lift out of the fountain on their own. Robert shouted for help but it took the people around a few moments to realise the seriousness of the situation. Some then came to help finally lift the cardinal out of the fountain. “Cardinal Baggia? Cardinal Baggia,” Robert asked out of breath. The cardinal managed to nod as his body shook. “Where was he hiding you? The Church of Illumination, where is it?”

“Castel… Castel Sant’Angelo.”

Robert looked up at Ernesto. “Castle of the Angel.”

 

The room she sat in was dark and dusty. It smelled of rats and mould. She was tied to a wooden chair that looked like it would break at any second. Her head hung low as endless tears ran over her cheeks. Her heart ached so much she felt her lungs tighten; she couldn’t breathe as the images of him lying on the ground wouldn’t leave her mind. She had lost him. The only person she had left on this godforsaken earth and he was gone. She was alone. “Hush,” the kidnapper hummed in a language she did not understand. Sara lifted her head to look at the same face she had back at St. Peter’s Square. Her face was expressionless as he stepped closer. “Cosa vuoi?” [What do you want?] she spat.

“Jeg ville bare se på et smukt ansigt, før jeg forlod.” [I just wanted to look at a pretty face before I leave.] he told her in Danish. She furrowed her brow, as she did not understand. If he wanted to kill her, he would have already done so. He came to a halt only a few inches before her. Instinctively she wanted to draw back but she couldn’t move. “Pagherai per quello che hai fatto.” [You will pay for what you have done.] He smiled slightly as he wiped away her tears and then let his fingers slowly glide down her neck onto her chest, admiring the softness of her skin. She felt her skin crawl in disgust at his touch. As he reached her torn blouse, she winced not in pain but repulsion. Her former white blouse was covered in dust and torn at various locations. Blood stained the fabric at her side where a rock had left a huge gash. His gaze lingered at her bosom for a moment too long. She closed her eyes but his touch never came. Instead, he had turned around to gather his things. “You know, when they call me and they all call me it is so important to them that I know that what they ask is the Lord’s will. Or Allah’s, or Yahweh’s. And I suppose they are right. Because if he was not vengeful, I would not exist, now would I?” He said, taking his suitcase and laptop. “Be careful,” he continued, halfway through the door. “These are men of God.”

As soon as he was out of sight, Sara rattled at the laces trying to break free. To no avail. She screamed in annoyance, as they wouldn’t budge. Couldn’t just one thing go right on this awful day? Before she could try another time, muffled voices sounded in the distance. A moment later, Robert, Ernesto, and Vittoria came running into the room. “Amore!” Ernesto exclaimed relieved as he quickly walked over to unlace her bonds. Everything happened so fast that her mind had a hard time catching up. He was alive? She swayed a little as he pulled her to her feet. Strong arms wrapped around her and she sobbed violently against his chest as her mind finally realised that he lived. “Pensavo che ti avesso ucciso. Ti ho visto steso a terra… Ti credevo morto…” [I thought he had killed you. I saw you lying on the ground. I thought you dead.] she choked and Ernesto pulled her closer. “Sono qui. Sono vivo. Andrà tutto bene. Ti ho preso,” [I am here. I am alive. Everything’s going to be ok. I got you] he whispered. A moment of silence passed in which Sara regained her breath and Robert and Vittoria started looking for the device. “It’s not here,” Sara finally uttered.

Robert stood at the open fireplace and looked at the moulded velvet case placed beside it, which held the four Illuminati brands. One was missing. “There’s a fifth brand.” Vittoria came to stand beside him, looking over his shoulder. “It’s not an ambigram, it’s just two crossed keys.”

“The symbol for the Vatican,” she suggested.

“No. The papacy… they intend to kill him. Before they destroy the Vatican, they’re gonna kill and brand the pope himself.”

“There is no pope.”

“Tempe sede vacante.”

“Il camerlengo,” Vittoria said as it dawned on her. “We have to warn him.”

“The passageway,” Robert uttered, pointing in the direction they came from.

“Where is the killer?” Ernesto wanted to know before they leave.

“He left just moments before you arrived,” Sara answered. “We need to hurry.”

They quickly made their way back to the passageway they had found earlier. Sara staggered along behind them, holding on to Ernesto’s hand. The passetto was narrow and dark, lit only by streaks of moonlight coming through the vertical slits in the walls. They raced up a flight of stairs, and the passageway came out into the open for a hundred yards or so as it left the Castel Sant’Angelo. They quickly made their way towards the Vatican when an explosion ripped through the still night. They all staggered and turned back, to see a car go up in an enormous fireball. Robert grabbed Vittoria’s arm and they took off again. The passetto descended into another underground space. The outline of a steel gate loomed ahead, blocking their way. As they drew closer, they found the ancient lock hanging open, and the gate swings freely. This tunnel had been used recently. They plow onward as a low roaring sound came from above. Robert paused to look up. “We’re under St. Peter’s Square.” Before they head on. Moments later they hit another gate, this one heavier but it too is unlocked. The sound of St. Peter’s Square fades behind them now. Around a corner the tunnel suddenly ends. There is only a thick iron door, and as Robert searched it with his flashlight, he found no handle, no knob, no keyhole, no hinges. “Senza chiave! A one-way portal, the only access is from the other side!” With a roar of anger, he started to pound on the door. Moments later, the door flung open and they found themselves face to face with a flabbergasted Chartrand. “The Camerlengo is in danger!” Robert urged and they all quickly raced down the hallway towards the Pope’s office. A bloodcurdling scream sounds from within the closed doors. The Swiss Guards throw open the door and enter with weapons drawn. “He’s the one! He’s got a gun!” Patrick shouted from the floor as he writhed in agony. His cassock was torn open and his bare chest was seared black. A large, square brand lays by his feet. The Swiss Guards act on instinct and open fire. Two bullets slammed into Richter’s chest and he crumpled. Chartrand and the Guards dash to the Camerlengo, who clutched his chest, convulsing in pain. Robert walked towards him, stunned, as the Guards pull the Camerlengo’s hands away from his wound, revealing the fifth brand. The crossed keys, seared into the flesh of his chest. Sara looked out from behind Ernesto’s back and watched in disbelief as Robert kneeled beside the dying Commandate of the Swiss Guard.

“Order the evacuation. We only have 19 minutes,” Patrick said as he struggled to a sitting position. “Get the helicopter for the older cardinals.”

“Robert,” Vittoria called. “The brand, the symbol, could it have another meaning?”

“Crossed keys. But those are upside down.”

“St. Peter,” Patrick suggested.

“The first pope was crucified upside down. On Vatican hill. A few hundred feet below us.”

“Necropolis, city of the dead.”

“Upon this rock I will build my church. Or bring it down upon itself. The bomb is in St. Peter’s tomb,” Patrick continued.


	8. Chapter 8

With time not being in their favour Vittoria, Robert, Ernesto, Sara and the Camerlengo made their way into an underground city of ancient, winding streets. Part museum, part ruin, they ran past ancient structures, some hundreds, some thousands of years old. The rectangular tombs are similar to little houses, complete with doorways, thresholds, windows, and terraces. Patrick seemed to know exactly where he’s going and lead them down a narrow stone passageway. They hurry up a small hill. At the top of the grade there is a stone grotto, toward which the Camerlengo is racing. The others came to a stop behind him, breathing hard. “It must be here! It must be!” Patrick ripped aside some protective tarps revealing an underground area, part of a dig in progress. Patrick climbed down into it as a soft glow emanated from beneath him. As he came back up, he held the glowing canister of anti-matter. Carefully he set it down in front of Vittoria. “We have seven minutes,” Robert announced. Vittoria hesitated as she felt the canister. “It’s cold down here, isn’t it?”

“What’s wrong?” Sara wanted to know.

“Cold decreases battery life. We may have less than five minutes.”

“So?” Patrick wondered.

“If I pull the power with less than five minutes the residual charge won’t hold suspension. We should leave it here and get clear if we can. At least down here, the damage…” Vittoria couldn’t even finish her sentence as the Camerlengo screamed “No!” snatching up the canister and taking off running back the way they came. “No, wait!” They shouted after him but he was already around the corner. Sara and Ernesto looked at each other in shock. “Fuck,” the ginger exclaimed before they took after him. As the four of them reached St. Peter’s Square, they watched as the Vatican helicopter climbed straight upward. “Oh my god…,” Robert exclaimed as he realised that Patrick was flying. The crowd fell silent, all eyes turning upward, watching the helicopter recede into the clouds. Sara reached out for Ernesto’s hand to hold and he pulls her closer, as a faint white speck appears far up in the sky; a billowing parachute and the Camerlengo dangled at the end of it. They all sighed in relief as the helicopter continued to climb far up into the night. Ernesto gave her hand a slight squeeze just as the helicopter exploded in a blinding pinpoint of white light. The pinpoint of light was tiny at first but shot out to either side in a searing white line expanding into a gigantic ball of hot white light. And then concussive force of the blast hits, like heat waves, rippling everything in its way. The Camerlengo, clinging to the parachute, is buffed wildly, spun over and over, tangling him in his cords, which makes him fall faster. The second wave hits ten times as powerful as the first. “Down!” Ernesto shouted and pulled her onto the ground, his body hovering protectively over hers as everything standing flattened – people, camera trucks, the fountain in the middle of the square collapsed in a shower of marble and water. Ceiling tiles fall and smash on the floor inside St. Peter’s … statues topple. Sara clung to her partner as the wave knocked the breath out of her lungs. A few meters beside them, Robert and Vittoria dodged falling debris. Vittoria lost her footing as a chunk of plaster crunched off a building, plummeting toward her. Robert acted fast and pulled her to safety as the plaster pulverizes itself on the ground. Patrick’s unconscious form now smashed through dozens of people before slamming to the ground at one edge of the square. The only sound that remained in the square is a soft night wind. The wounded picked themselves up off the ground, as everyone’s attention turned to the body of the Camerlengo. Sara inhaled sharply as Ernesto pulled her to her feet, her side still burning from the gash. “Stai bene?” [Are you alright?] he wanted to know and she nodded. Her gaze fell onto Robert and Vittoria who were getting back up as well. Then jubilation resonated throughout the square as Patrick had opened his eyes and was helped back onto his feet by Chartrand. Relieved Sara brushed the ginger curls out of her face. “È finito?” [Is it over?] she wanted to know. “Lo spero,” [I hope so] Ernesto sighed as they made their way over to Robert and Vittoria. “We should really get this wound looked at,” he continued and pointed at her large gash that was still slightly bleeding. “Also… I could really use a shower and a bed right now,” Sara added as Ernesto walked her to the infirmary of the Vatican. “Later, gioia mia,” he smiled.

 

Sara winced as the nurse cleaned her wound and then wrapped a bandage around her torso. Her upper body only protected by her bra, she was glad that not many people were present. “Grazie mille,” she thanked the nurse when she was done and made her way back to Ernesto, who awaited her with a fresh blouse. She thanked him and slowly started to button it up. As she reached her neck, she hesitated. “What’s wrong?” Ernesto wanted to know. Sara looked up, one hand placed around the delicate necklace her mother had gifted her before she died. It once carried an image of her father within - who had bought the necklace in the first place - but her mother had replaced it with a picture of herself before she gave it to her daughter. “Oh… it’s nothing,” Sara waved off and carried on buttoning it up. Ernesto stepped closer and reached for her hands as she was done. “Amore?”

Her heart skipped a beat at the tone of his voice and she sighed. “I… I don’t know…,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Back in the archives… I saw him wearing the same Mickey Mouse watch Mom used to wear on pictures of her childhood, remember?”

Ernesto nodded. He had only met Laura Agnelli once but had heard many stories of her and seen pictures Sara had shown him. When Laura died, the world collapsed on Sara and he still thought she hadn’t quite recovered. All the more now that they were engaged.

“Forget it… I’m just imagining things…,” she then quickly added before he could utter a word. “We better go find Robert and Vittoria.” With that she hurried down the hallway and Ernesto followed.

 

Robert and Vittoria were sitting on a bench at the office of the Swiss Guard. The buzz in the office was just as intense as in the square and in the Sistine Chapel. As Sara came to a halt in front of the glass doors, she witnessed the intimate moment between them and smiled slightly to herself. Well, she had already known that they were made for each other. Sara cleared her throat as she entered the office and the two looked at her startled. “Are you guys okay?” the young woman wanted to know and both of them nodded as Ernesto appeared in the door as well. “What about you?” Robert asked.

“Fine,” Sara briefly stated.

Vittoria then stands, walking over to Richter’s desk. “What are you doing?”

“Silvano’s journals. I want them back,” she answered. Vittoria felt in the surface of the desk and found the square outline of the inlaid panel where Richter hid the journals. Pushing down on the front of it the panel slowly slides open. The journals, which were placed on top of the television monitor, slide out and onto the desk. Vittoria scoops them up and walked back to the bench. Robert stood, surveying the monitor for a moment. “Richter said His Holiness suffered from seizures but steps were taken for safety,” he pondered as he took the small key out of his pocket that Richter had handed him shortly before his death. “Made sure he was watched, he said. What if he was trying to give me this key?”

The others stepped closer to have a better look at the monitor. Robert lowered the key to the monitor, extending it toward the keyhole – the perfect fit. The power of the monitor winks to life and an image came into focus. “That’s the papal office,” Ernesto said.

“If the pope was worried about seizures he must have had Richter install cameras without telling anyone,” Sara suggested. “To keep an eye on him. For safety,” Robert continued. “Maybe it records.” The image zipped backwards, rapidly to the shooting and all the way back to when Richter and the Camerlengo were alone together. They listened intently as Richter told Patrick about the journals and that Silvano was deeply conflicted about the implication of his work and in need of spiritual guidance. That’s when Patrick found out about the experiment. The Holy Father had urged Silvano to go public, he thought the discovery might actually prove the existence of a divine power and begin to bridge the gap between religion and science. By then the look on Patricks face had changed to contemptuous, angry, and violent. Patrick had murdered the Vicar of Christ in order to protect the church from within, as he said, and conjured up an old enemy from the past to spread fear. Then everything turned for the worse and ended in the chaos they had all witnessed in person. Shocked, Sara took a step backward. She knew Patrick, or at least she thought she did… had spoken with him a couple of times before. She would have described him as compassionate and rational. “We need to inform Cardinal Strauss…,” Sara said. Ernesto nodded and then went to go get the Cardinal. As they all watched it once more with a few cardinals and members of the Swiss Guard, Sara sat down on the bench, still not quite believing how the events on this awful day had turned out. “What are we going to do?” she wanted to know as the playback had finished. “The Swiss Guard will take care of it,” Cardinal Strauss said, looking at Chartrand and this very moment the Cardinal seemed very, very old, Sara thought. “But within our walls.”


	9. Chapter 9

Rays of sunlight found their way through the window shutter into the huge bedroom gently tickling the young woman in the sheets awake. She turned to find the warmth of her partner but discovered the other side of the bed to be empty. Slowly she opened her eyes. “Ciccino?” she murmured still half asleep. “Sono qui,” [I’m here.] he said with a husky voice as he sat down at her side of the bed, gently brushing through her hair. “Dobbiamo prepararci.” [We need to get ready.]

She nodded and slowly sat up, as the events of the day before came back to her mind. She knew it would take her a while to move on. Ernesto took her hand as he noticed what was on her mind. “Dai,” [Come on.] he then said kissing her forehead. Sara nodded, reluctantly getting out of the bed.

 

Half an hour later, Robert, Vittoria, Sara, and Ernesto were waiting inside the papal apartments. They were all dressed in black. As Vittoria sat on a straight-backed chair, Sara noticed that Robert – who stood beside the physicist – was holding her hand in an affectionate manner. Then the door to their right suddenly opened, as a Swiss Guard nods for Robert to enter. He stood and straightened his jacket. Robert is shown into the office where a robed figure is being dressed by two Vatican attendants. Cardinal Strauss stepped closer and handed Robert a small present. “A token of thanks from His Holiness and from his new camerlengo. We are grateful you saved his life. And it’s our understanding that you require this text to complete your scholarly work,” Cardinal Strauss said as Robert opened the gift – the only surviving copy of Galileo’s Diagramma. Robert was too stunned to speak. “We ask only that in your last will and testament you ensure it finds its way home.”

“Of course,” Robert nodded.

“And when you write of us and you will write of us may I ask one thing? Do so gently.”

“I’ll try.”

“Religion is flawed but only because man is flawed. All men, including this one,” Cardinal Strauss said and then waved for the others to join them. The aides now pick up the miter, the spade-shaped papal hat. Cardinal Baggia stands still while they place it on his head, completing his attire.

“He chose the name Luke,” Vittoria said.

“There’s been many Marks and Johns never a Luke,” Robert added.

“It’s said he was a doctor.”

“It’s quite a message, science and faith all in one.”

“The world is in need of both.”

They watched as Baggia turned and slightly bowed his head towards Robert. Then his aides part the billowing silk curtains that lead to the papal balcony. As he stepped out over St. Peter’s Square a great roar rose up from below. Cardinal Baggia – Pope Luke I – held his arms out to his sides, an embrace to take in the world.

 

Back in the hallway, Sara gently placed her hand on the professor’s arm. “Robert… can I talk to you for a second?” she asked and he nodded slightly confused. “Of course.”

Both of them moved a bit further into the hallway while Vittoria and Ernesto stayed back. “What’s wrong?” Robert wanted to know.

Sara briefly locked eyes with Ernesto before she took off her delicate golden necklace and placed it into Roberts’s hand. “Do you recognise this?” she asked hesitantly.

Robert carefully looked at the jewellery as realisation struck him and his eyes widened. He looked at the young woman before him as he opened the heart shaped pendant and revealed the picture of Laura Agnelli. Her heart started to pound heavy in her chest as she noticed the look on his face – he did indeed recognise it. “Do you know her?” Sara wanted to know.

“Laura…” Robert said. “We went to university together… She suddenly disappeared after graduation and I have never heard of her again…,” he further explained and looked at Sara. Tears started to form in her eyes as she went on. “Laura… Mom… left America after her graduation as she was pregnant with me…” Ernesto came up to stand beside her in an emotional support as Robert asked “Pregnant?” Sara looked at her feet and then back up at Robert. “I was born 1979.”

Roberts’s eyes widened. That was the year of their graduation. “But… why wouldn’t she say anything? Why run?” Sara looked at him apologetically. “My Grandparents wouldn’t let her return… they were very stubborn… I think… she was scared… I don’t know… she never told me much…”

“You speak of her in the past tense…,” Robert noted.

Sara snivelled as Ernesto took her hand and gave it a light squeeze. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled under her breath. Robert nodded, is eyes fixed onto the necklace in his hand. “So… you think I’m… your father?” he concluded. Sara hesitated to speak. “The only thing my mother told me about my dad was that they went to university together. I don’t know what she was afraid of…,” she explained. “And I saw you wear the Micky Mouse watch Mom gave you for graduation, am I right?”

Now Robert was rendered speechless. Yes, Laura did give him the Mickey Mouse watch for graduation. He had hardly ever taken it off since then. “I’m sorry for bringing this up so sudden… but ever since Mom died… I…” Sara stopped mid-sentence as the tears started to fall and Ernesto pulled her closer. Sara hid her face in his chest for a moment before she spoke “I just want to know where I belong… you know…” Robert nodded, thinking about everything she had just said. The necklace, the watch, the year of her birth… everything fitted. He had a beautiful daughter who – in addition – was a Vatican police officer. “I… have a daughter,” Robert then said as he smiled slightly and Sara couldn’t help but return the smile. Robert then opened his arms as an invitation for an embrace that the young woman gladly accepted. Vittoria stepped beside Ernesto and the both of them looked fondly at the father and daughter reunion. Ernesto was glad that she had finally found the one thing she missed the most and that they could now look joyful into the future.


End file.
